Gold and Rime
by Halfpenny
Summary: That which pertains to the huntress, the seasons of the hunt, and the one who is least expected to bring her home. K18.
1. Prelude

**Di: **I borrow and remain in debt. ****

**A/N: **I always thought Kuririn would dabble a bit in horticulture, what with being a monk. Either him or Yamcha, anyway, if only just to see a bad-ass ex-bandit planting a tulip. The 'rime' in the title is a bit of a play on words, used both in reference to the synonym for 'frost' and the old-fashioned spelling of 'rhyme'. To those of you who review, may the wind always be at your back.

Dedicated to SnowEyes, my most faithful reviewer, who really does have no idea just how much she's helped me to fly.

_ This FFN Edition, first published in 2003, contains the unabridged text of 'Gold and Rime' as originally published in Volume II of 'Jinzouningens and Humans of Chikyuu; A Quest of Love' as told anonymously. This copy is devoid of any annotations prepared specially or otherwise for performance and may be used in its entirety with permission.  _

_ Manufactured on Chikyuu, Chikyuu Publications, Inc. 47 West 4th Street, West City, C.Y, 22975_

--**gold and rime**

_unabridged_

She could go for days without thinking about him. Weeks, sometimes. Juunanagou was an exhausting person to be around, after all, and was therefore perfectly capable of distracting her from almost anything whether he desired to or not. Juuhachigou hated and loved him for it. Juunanagou was a person with very little direction and was actually quite easy to please; now that they had stopped killing humans, or perhaps because of it, he received a profound pleasure out of killing other things. 

His favorite parts of the games were the chases. She would watch as he stretched out in the air, as comfortably and effortlessly as if he were sitting on a lawn chair, tossing nuts into the clearings with a flick of his wrist. The squirrels would come then, furtive as shadows, seeking them with tiny, quivering noses. He would lift a finger and toss a bolt of ki in their direction. If he was feeling mischievous, and this of course happened more often than not, he would go on the hunt, shooting the ki in such a way that it forced them to run in circles to avoid them. The squirrels in particular would squeak the loudest, paws digging up tiny dirt clods with every turn and misturn, and if they lasted long enough, which they usually did not, they would end up shuddering in the grass, trying futilely to blend with scenery that did not match them. He then would shoot a ki blast through their heads, neatly and pitilessly. 

He did the same thing with chipmunks, and rabbits, too, when he thought to vary what it was he tossed. They would all suffer the same indignity, ears and tails growing increasingly ragged and singed as the blasts rained down time and again. He never tried chasing the raccoons, though. "Too slow," he replied when she asked, and had blown on the tip of his finger lightly, winking at her. "No sport in it."

It was not the killing that bothered her, or that he got such great amusement out of a game so grisly. What bothered her was the fact that animals continued coming back to the clearing, regardless of how great the smell of blood or the stench of the burned fur of their brothers became. One after another they would creep back in, paws groping, movements cautious and jerky, and he would play again, and again, relentless. It was the innocence that bothered her.  

But there were times when he did not play, and she was thus rendered free from distraction. In those times, zooming over the ocean for the sixth or seventh time, aimless, would think of him again. His trembling voice, his pitiable, shaking knees, his wide-eyed near-panic: Kuririn should not have been anywhere near that battle, let alone _in _it; he was little more than another body, a vigilante, too pathetic to fight and too stupid to run away. His weakness sickened her. 

And yet, when the sun flickered irritably at the horizon, and her pace slowed enough so she could see the land below her clearly, she could _feel his presence from across the world, like a midnight sun. She would feel it, and let her fingers lift to linger over the spot the detonator had been lodged, and with every fiber of her being desperately wish for it back. _


	2. Act I

**_Act I, scene i; in which autumn has begun_**

"I don't think he's stupid."

Juunanagou looked at her. She was stretched out, chin resting at the crook of an elbow, looking for all the world as if she was perched comfortably on a cloudbank. "I mean it," she said. "I think you look at him and you think, there's that ugly, stupid midget who's crushing on my sister. I really do."

The late morning activity of nature had tumbled into the lethargy characteristic of mid-afternoon. They watched dispassionately as the waves wearily rolled up onto the shore, almost managing to catch the toes of the small figure on the beach. Kuririn laughed, twirled away; mocked the sluggishness of world around him and its inability to catch him, time and time again. "I don't," Juunanagou replied, a beat too late.

A gentle wind coaxed a lock of blonde hair from behind her ear and allowed it to tumble into her eyes. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"I can always tell when you lie. Don't bother."

"Fine," he said, "I won't." And then, because it felt proper to say so, "And he's ugly even with hair."

Juuhachigou moved her head slightly so her cheek rested against her arm. She tired more and more easily these days, though not physically –seldom was there physical sensation she trusted to be real—but mentally, and of things that had once given her comfort. "And you," she said, "would be just as ugly with or without hair."

Juunanagou pressed a hand over where his heart was, or was supposed to be, and even that movement appeared mechanical. "You wound me."

"But really, I'm not at all convinced he's stupid." Her fingers trailed through the top of the cloud and came away damp. "Though he looks it. He acts a lot different when he thinks he's alone."

"Who are you trying to persuade? Is it me, honestly? I'm just saying, it better not be, because there isn't even a way to express how much I just don't care. You're in love with an ugly ex-monk. You can't sink much deeper than that." 

The waves, as if provoked into action, suddenly seemed to gain a burst of energy and charged up the sand. Caught off guard, Kuririn yelped and jumped back, promptly tripping on a half-finished sandcastle and sprawling to the ground. The waves came up again, effectively soaking the seat of his trunks. Laughing, he rolled into it and chased it back down toward the sea. "You're wrong," she said, and faced her twin. "There is no love. And you can always sink deeper, there is no rock bottom."

"Of course there's a rock bottom. We walk on it every goddamn day." Juunanagou squinted down at Kuririn; mimed holding a gun. "As for love," he said, "you really don't know anything about it."

The unwitting hypocrisy unnerved her. "I know it doesn't exist."

"I think it does. Furthermore, I think you do, too." His index finger curled, and he rocked his hand gently. "Bang."

Juuhachigou shifted in the air, raising herself to her knees. Though her face was expressionless, there was a tenseness to her limbs that betrayed her agitation. "You don't know what I believe."

"Sure I do. Since when have we had separate beliefs? I know you, dear sister, and more importantly, I know how you operate." Juunanagou's hand lowered into his pocket. His tone was bland. "You don't want to kill him. You don't want to lay with him. You don't want to break him. You want to hate him."

"And that's love?"

"That's love."

"You're full of it," she said.

Down below, Kuririn gave a whoop and shot into the air. Thirty some feet later he somersaulted and cannonballed into the sea with unchecked speed. The impact knocked a good percentage of the tide onto the island. From inside the hut came the sound of dishes against tile, followed by a flurry of curses. "Don't get me wrong," said Juunanagou. "If I thought I'd eventually be able to get you off my ass about the whole thing I would go right ahead and kill him. It would be extremely entertaining. I'd make him suffer needlessly. The screams would last for days."

She shrugged. "We both know you're sadistic. That's fine. I'm not going to dick around trying to disagree with you. If you're going to kill him, kill him, but don't feel the need to waste my time talking about it."

"Maybe I _will kill him. Slowly. Then again, he has that irritating, nasally voice. I'll have to do something about that, maybe. Gag him? Or maybe I'd just tie him up somewhere and let him scream himself hoarse before coming back to finish him. Then there's the matter of method. What do you think? Ki style? Or should I be old-fashioned about it?"_

"Juunana," she said.

"All right, all right, I'll stop. Maybe I'll tape it. That would be interesting. Put in subtitles. Can you see it? Damn. But." His gaze grew intense. "I'm serious. The more he makes you love him the more you try to hate him. Eventually one's going to win. You'll either kill him or marry him."

She got up. "I think you're an ass."

"I don't think you want him to die."

"I already told you, I don't care."

"I think you do." He smiled. His teeth were perfectly aligned; it was a very nice smile. "It really is very touching, sis. I actually might decide not to kill him. Maybe it's up to you."

"Maybe it isn't."

Though his expression remained amused, his ice-blue eyes were flat. "Are you willing to take that risk?"

She did not reply. But, then again, she never needed to.

**_Act I, scene ii, the same_**

She made no sound when she was near, and she emitted no ki. It was within her power to do so, and what she had power to do, she did. In time, though, she began to notice the subtle shift of his gaze, and she became aware that he was, on some level, aware. Whether he was playing with Goten and Trunks, or washing the windows, or fixing the newest leak on the Kame hut, whenever she was around and out of sight he would occasionally pause, cracking his back to mask his hesitation, and then _listen. She would hold her breath and wait, silent as a wraith, until that gentle, infuriating smile came to his face and he returned to his work, performing whatever task it was with a new kind of deliberation. Even through the clouds, and high enough that she knew there was absolutely no way he could possibly see her, whenever she was preparing to leave he always looked up at the last minute, gaze on the sky and on __her, uncanny in his accuracy. It unnerved and annoyed her, and…?_

When she did finally confront him, it was a Tuesday and he was wearing shorts. 

Juuhachigou landed silently on the back lawn, then leaned against the house, folding her arms. The sun had already started its downward climb, shrouding her in the lengthening shadows of the palm trees. Kuririn was deeply engaged in a battle with an invisible opponent, motions blurring, breath steaming in the frigid air. It was barely morning and uncommonly cold for both the month and the location and was, all in all, no place at all to be wearing shorts. After a moment she realized that he was muttering to himself, too: breathing out the names of motions and the _mistakes _he was making, dear Kami, and the rapid one-two-three pattern he was pacing himself at, and it could have been faster, stronger, he could smarter, better, and then he was taunting his enemy, _is that all you got? 'Cause, you know, it's gonna take more than that to beat me…_

Juuhachigou let her arms fall back to her sides, unsure whether or not to approach him or let him stumble upon her himself. As it turned out, the next motion spun him around to face the house, solving the problem for her. His reaction was comical: gaping at her, he accidentally overextending on a kick, then overcompensated for it by jerking himself back. The motion knocked him further off-balance. Windmilling frantically, he finally fell to the wet sand with an 'oomph'. The grunt turned into a squeal as the shore rushed up to douse his shorts. He leapt up, clutching his backside and yelping, "Cold! Cold!"

Juuhachigou gently pushed herself from the hut and walked toward him. Forgetting his shorts, he spun to face her, wide-eyed, even as his sand-caked hands lifted palm-first out in front of him in an oddly demonstrative manner: _I'm not holding any weapons. "Your technique needs work," she said._

A long, tense pause. Kuririn's eyes darted to her face, her hands, and somewhere behind her. "Yeah," he said cautiously. Then, as his hands lowered, a sheepish: "Hi."

She narrowed her eyes. If she inspected him closely, which she did, she could see goosebumps on his skin even as his face heated. As a random observation she noted how obscenely tiny his toes were–still able to wiggle, amazingly, even though they were gaining a blue tinge—and she said, "You're an idiot."

"Okay," said Kuririn. His eyes slid to the ground and roamed back and forth pleasantly, as if searching for something. "Any… particular reason?"

"It's barely fifty degrees out here. You're wearing shorts and a short-sleeve shirt." 

He relaxed. "Oh, that. Well, I figured –see, it _never _gets this cold out here, and I thought… well, I haven't felt this kind of cold for a long time –I mean, here, that is, on the island—so I thought I'd go out and see what it was like in my normal clothes. … Actually, I think I just kind of hopped out of bed this morning and threw something on. I've just been too lazy to go and dress properly, I guess."

She stared at him impassively. Kuririn suddenly found the ground worthy of inspection. "Shut up, I know," he muttered.

Juuhachigou had never kicked a dog. Still, watching him fumble for words, perpetually frozen in a half-cringe, she felt as if she were in the process of beating one over and over again, and making it run in circles, like a merry-go-round or Juunanagou's squirrels. She folded her arms, waiting. When he finally did look up, it was nearly a minute later and was not at her, but at the sky. "You know, it looks like rain," he decided.

"It's looked like rain for a while."

He nodded. "Yeah," he said.

"A storm, in fact."

"Yeah."

"Violent."

"Yeah."

"Do you ever have your ownopinions?"

"Yeah," he said, and smiled. It was shy, but she could see genuine humor glinting in his eyes. "Though it's not usually a good idea, seeing as those who I'm disagreeing with are always stronger than me."

"Like me?"

"Like everyone." His tone was oddly wistful. "Like you."

A surge of wind blew sand up over the top of her boots. Juuhachigou shifted, lifted her foot. Kuririn's smile instantly froze as every muscle in his body tensed, ready. She stopped, putting her hands on her hips. He colored instantly, looking down. "What was that about?" she snapped. 

He did not look at her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You didn't deserve that."

She watched his toes wiggle feebly. "You're afraid of me," she said.

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Said, "It's not that I—"

"I'm wondering," she said, "if your weakness bothers you. Honestly. Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and wonder why you're so pathetic?"

Kuririn jerked as if slapped. "I…"

"My brother wonders why." Though something in her expression twitched, there was a strange lack of emotion in her voice, like a void half-formed. "He's offered to kill you more than once. He hates weakness."

"So I've gathered." He let out his breath slowly, absently scratching above his collarbone. "Um… are you threatening me?"

"I could make you strong."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry?"

"Strong." And she shrugged, though the casual gesture was jerky. "So you wouldn't have to worry. Unless, of course, you _want _to be beaten up on."      

"Oh." Kuririn ran his hand over the top of his head, then raked his fingers up the back agitatedly, coaxing short, raven-dark locks into a chaotic gathering of tangles and wisps. "Look," he said. "I'm not sure why you're here, but… it's getting late, and I know we're going to be having dinner soon. You're welcome to stay, of course…"

A strange, inexplicable fury seized a hold of her. This was not what she wanted. She did not want to hear the sincerity in his voice, or see the hopeful expression lurking behind the sudden fatigue in his eyes. She wanted him to bristle at her sarcasm, or curse at her, or simply _take offense_. To be human. 

Her aura suddenly flared, blasting a crater in the sand beneath her. She felt an absurd urge to laugh. "Stay," she repeated.

Kuririn's hands were clutching at the sides of his shorts, white-knuckled. "Miss Juuhachigou…"

Juuhachigou's nostrils flared. She could smell his fear, see it gathering between his shoulder blades and beading on his upper lip, and some primal part of her _enjoyed the way it made her liken to a tigress on the trail of an animal too bewildered to know where to run next. She watched his muscles tense and relax, his fists clench and unclench, and –when she stepped closer—his pupils dilate slightly. "Block this," she said gently._

Taken completely by surprise, Kuririn was unable to avoid the backhand. The force of the blow sent him reeling to the sand. Juuhachigou placed her hands on her hips. Her face was expressionless. 

Kuririn scrambled to his feet. The mark was already crimson on his face. "What…" he gasped. "W-what are you…?"

She advanced. Kuririn stumbled backwards, paling. "Get your guard up," she said.

"What are you doing?"

"_Get your guard up!" she roared. "Are you a fighter or not?"_

He did, hesitantly. Juuhachigou darted in without warning, throwing a simple punch. Kuririn moved his head minutely, not taking his eyes from her face. "Why are you doing this?" he asked urgently. "I… I don't understand…"

Juuhachigou overextended and shot a fist past his head, then snapped back and caught his neck in the crook of her elbow. He struggled against her. Sighing, she released him and lashed out with another backhand. He ducked, albeit clumsily. "Quit hiding," she snapped. "You and I both know you're faster than that."

"But I don't want to fight you." Kuririn raised the back of his hand and swept it across his mouth. It came away red; his lip was split. "I'm not looking to fight anyone. Especially when there's no point."

Juuhachigou launched into a generic series of attacks. At the end she threw in a hammer fist to catch him off-guard. There was a very brief moment in which she saw his dark eyes narrow, and his muscles relax, allowing the adroit evasion to blur in the air, ghostlike. Then the instant passed and Kuririn was back again, grim-faced and ashen. "Of course there's a point," she said. "Don't you want to be strong?"

He shook his head once, shortly, then hissed what sounded suspiciously like a curse when she viciously slammed a knee into his stomach. Amused, she let him go. He fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around his midsection. 

A breeze pushed the hair from her face. Juuhachigou glanced up as a drop of rain fell on her forehead, followed by another. Turning her head slightly, she could hear the rumble of thunder from across the sea. "I was taught," said Kuririn, bringing her gaze back down, "that strength is relative. You can be the strongest person physically, but… but you can still be defeated by someone who has enough heart to win, and—"

"If you have enough energy to talk then you have enough strength to fight." Juuhachigou yanked him up and shoved him away from her. He tottered, almost fell, and painfully turned to face her. "Come on," she ordered. "Stop stalling and fight me!"

The heavens opened with a low grumble, releasing a torrent that instantly drenched them both. Kuririn straightened very slowly, wearily, arms loose at his sides. "Miss Juuhachigou…"

Lightning flashed close by. In the span of an instant she rushed in, delivering a knife hand to the nerve at his shoulder, a kick to his floating rib, and jab at his solar plexus. His defense crumbled under the onslaught. "You want to be able to defend yourself," she snapped. "You want to be strong, don't you? _Fight!"_

He stumbled, gasping for breath. For a wild instant she felt the tigress in her bare her teeth in anticipation for the kill. Here, in the torrent, she was _queen, and the thunder, and _time_, and could smell the blood as clearly as she could smell the sea. "I'm trying to help you," she said. A jab bent him double, and she pressed her attack. "This is all for your own good. You're useless otherwise."_

Kuririn made a soft noise of protest that the wind pulled away. Juuhachigou laughed suddenly, and it was wild, like the storm on the shore. "And since you can't fix your own problems," she said, and raised her hand for a finishing blow, "_then I will fix them for__ you!"_

Thunder, and a flurry of movement; her forearm was suddenly caught in an iron grip. The visions tumbled away, leaving her alone with the hunted. Kuririn's chest was heaving. He shook her once, firmly, scarlet with vehemence. "What _is it with you?" he snapped. "What the __heck is your problem?" _

Juuhachigou stared at him, too taken aback to respond. 

"Listen, I understand if you're having problems, and… and if beating up on me will make you feel better, I'm perfectly willing to be your punching bag, but you know what? This is _not _my problem. This is yours." He ducked his head. He was shaking, whether it was due to the cold or fury or pain she could not tell. His fingers clutched at her arm with force enough to bruise. "This is _not _my problem," he whispered again. "You talk about strength, about limitations… but I'm not the one who worries about those. I'll give you help whenever you need it, but _don't _try and tell me it's my problem."__

Juuhachigou was snapped from her daze. Snatching his wrist, she twisted it sharply, eliciting a cry of pain, and flung him to the ground. He bounced once, hard, and rolled, skidding to a halt several yards away. "How _dare _you speak to me like that," she hissed. "Don't you understand that it's because of _me _that you're still alive? That if I hadn't have stopped my brother time and time again he would have hunted you down and killed you?"

Kuririn pushed himself upward one-handed, head bowed. She moved forward he flinched. A wave of contempt overrode her better judgment, and she raised her hand. Ki began swirling past her fingertips and up her arms, snapping her hair about her face. "Pathetic," she whispered, and readied her ki to shoot.

His head lifted. Juuhachigou froze. In his gaze was something intimately and hideously familiar –not the pain, necessarily, or the exhaustion, or even the fear—and images flashed unbidden before her eyes; of Juunana, reclining in the air, finger drawn in lazy circles, sending ki blasts rocketing into the clearings; of the scuttling of tiny feet, made quick with greed; of the terrible, all-too-human expression of resignation in the eyes of his prey as they huddled in the grass. A sudden terror seized her. She let her arm drop, stumbling backwards. The ki light faded slowly, sinking into the sand and sending violet undercurrents through the tide. 

"What's the matter?"

Stricken, she looked at him. His smile was tired. "Don't you want to kill me?" he asked.

"Shut up," she whispered.

"Because I don't mind dying." He dragged himself to his knees, pressing the back of his hand to his lower lip briefly. "I'm not doing anybody any good anyway. If it'll make you feel better…"

Juuhachigou made as if to advance. His mouth shut, though his smile did not fade. His hand shook, and he lowered it. "Go ahead," he said softly.

She stared at him. A flash of lightning, and the acrid scent of ozone, and the brightness in his eyes suddenly shivered; spilled.

She took a step backwards, then turned and fled. 


	3. Interlude

__

_There was a story she held somewhere in the back of her memory. She was not sure if it was a real memory, or even her memory, but it was there all the same, lurking behind tired files on Goku and on countless battle tactics, all overlaid with the same programmed revenge revenge revenge system she had come to ignore._

_ There was a story somewhere in the back of her memory: one that reminded her that when she had first realized she had feelings for it she had been set to kill it. It was not for fear of weakness. She was stronger than almost any being on the planet and absolutely capable of seizing it from within and turning it inside out. Kuririn was a thorn, an image that flickered behind the clear–cut rules of reality. With little effort she could bring him to his knees, she knew, screaming for mercy, stricken and pale in the shadows of day and night and day again._

_ There was a story somewhere in the back of her memory that reminded her that she did not believe in fantasy. She did not need it, nor did she want it. Still, the beach always held a certain magical quality to it at sunset, and when the quiet voice rose beyond the creaking of the porch swing ("Ready for story-time, Goten?") she found herself folding her legs and settling down in midair to listen._

_ At first the nights had been both cloudy and rainless. As time went on, however, and his stories became more and more elaborate and lengthy, sometimes spilling over into other nights, she found herself coming more and more, a moth to candlelight. She would listen to him speak of dragons and knights, of swordsmen and wanderers, of all things fantastic and beautiful and unreal, and would hate him with all the passion of one who is being coaxed into believing what has long been construed as a lie. She tired of the conflicting sensations that resulted from her hearing his laughter and seeing his smile, and would hide with penumbrian expertise and despise him. Through that anger she could stay sane long enough to wait until his next bedtime tale began, and there she would be appeased, as if him sacrificing his time had been a sacrifice for her instead of his sleepy-eyed charges, and would watch the way his own eyes roamed the sky between the chapters; a dreamer's gaze._

_ There was a story somewhere in the back of her memory; one that reminded her of the screams and the weeping of children. She remembered how she would kneel among the terrible beauty of the war waged and won, and scoop up the ashes in a delicate hand, allowing them to trickle through her fingers and catch in the creases of an un-callused palm. She remembered the terror of the hunted, and the thrill of being the huntress, and would miss it like a babe did the breast of its mother and a wolf would the light of the moon. She remembered…_

_ And then she remembered the stutter, and the wide eyes, and the look of naked incredulity come the touch of her lips. And later, the hesitant smile, and the faint flush at his cheeks; but for all that she detected no innocence in his eyes. Perhaps that was why…? _

_ And even through the memory of the terror of the children and the supplication of their mothers, and the howling of infants in the cradles and the crash of ki; the feeling of bones crunching beneath her hand, of blood streaming between her fingers; she remembered it, and she missed it as fiercely as she loathed her desire; and in her pain felt the desperate need to make others feel it –to make him feel it—until their hands were just as stained as hers were._

_ There was a story somewhere in the back of her memory, but she could not for the life of her remember why._


	4. Act II

**_Act II, scene i –in which winter is mentioned_**

When she landed on the mountain, snow crunched and she slid several feet.

Her first reaction was to raise her energy again, but her better judgment won out over instinct. Too much of a power surge would cause an avalanche, and the last thing she wanted was to crush the people below her. The view was beautiful; settled between the many mountains was a lake –frozen solid, she assumed—which was bordered by frosted pine-trees. Nowhere was there a patch of earth uncovered by snow; nowhere was the snow less than a foot deep. Far below, bundled in winter garb, Kuririn was playing with Trunks and Goten, the latter two who were toddling through the snow unsteadily. 

Juuhachigou found it baffling that Kuririn, a man of neither wing, who was neither tempestuous nor apathetic, whose sense of equity was so keen that a decision whether to wear blue or red socks often resulted in him wearing both, could almost always be found in either one extreme or the other. If he was not at the Kame house, sunburned and barefoot, he was in another place she would least think to look for him—usually, she found, far, far up north.

After watching for several minutes, Juuhachigou decided to make her presence known. She pushed off lightly and went into a controlled fall, landing gracefully at the foot of the mountain. As she touched down Kuririn looked up, and she was gratified to see genuine delight flicker across his face. "Look who's here!" he exclaimed.

Goten and Trunks were laboring on a nondescript pile of snow. At the greeting Goten turned, a crumbling snowball in his arms. Kuririn stooped to pick up him up, swinging him up onto his shoulders. "Trunks, Goten, have you met Miss Juuhachigou? Come on, say hello."

"Heyhey," said Goten.

Juuhachigou looked at Trunks. He stared back up at her fearlessly, chubby hand grasping at his green and blue striped scarf. "I don't want to intrude," she said.

"What? You're _never intruding! Goten, buddy, that's my hair." Kuririn shrugged his shoulders up and down, causing Goten to squeal in delight, and grinned up at Juuhachigou. His cheeks and ears were pink. "So, what brings you here? Come to join in on the fun?"_

Trunks, growing disinterested, waddled off toward a half-finished snowman. Goten began to struggle. Kuririn lifted him from his shoulders and set him carefully on the ground so he could follow. "Not really," she said. "I just didn't have anywhere better to go."

"Oh. Well, that's okay too." Kuririn cupped mittened hands together and blew, then rubbed them together fiercely. "It's nice out here today. Yesterday I hear it was storming like crazy—I probably would have gotten swallowed up if I'd tried to come out. Aren't you cold?"

She shook her head. "What's the story with those two?" she asked. "Are you babysitting?"

"Goten and Trunks? Sort of. I mean, I am, but no one really asked me to. Bulma and Chichi are raising those kids by themselves. They deserve a break once in a while." He was watching Goten and Trunks as he spoke. He smiled gently as an attempt to push the bottom half of the snowman resulted in both of them getting buried by the midsection. "Besides, I love having these two. They can be terrors, but they really are good kids."

She nodded. The wind picked up, stirring the mounds of snow up into clouds. "I haven't seen you recently," said Kuririn.

"I haven't been around," she responded neutrally. 

"Where have you been?"

"None of your business."

Kuririn nodded in acquiescence, resuming clapping his hands together. She watched him, from the way his way his eyes kept re-focusing and the way his teeth occasionally found his lower lip, fretful. "You're tired," she observed.

Kuririn glanced at her, surprised. "Yeah, a little, I guess," he said. "I'm working right now so I can pay off the new aircar Yamcha convinced me to get, not that I really needed it. In addition, I had to cover a couple of birthdays recently, including Master Roshi's three hundred such-and-such… yeah, it'll be nice when that stuff is finally taken care of. At the very least, it'll be a relief to stop hemorrhaging money. Woah, Trunks, not by the lake, buddy! Would you excuse me for a second?"

He sprinted off, scarf trailing behind him like a banner. Juuhachigou bent, ignoring the dampness that seeped through the material at the knee, and trailed her fingers through the snow. When she lifted them back out it stuck to her fingers like dandelion fluff. She touched a tongue to it experimentally. She was not sure what she expected to taste. She had once heard someone say it was supposed to taste like sugar –others said the taste differed according to the month. Her tongue lifted to brush the rapidly melting crystals to the roof of her mouth, and she swished the resulting water. To her disappointment, but not her surprise, she found it to be little more than that.

"We built a couple of snow forts back there a ways," said Kuririn. Trunks and Goten were traipsing behind him doggedly, tripping every other step. "We were about to have a war. Want to join us?"

"A war?" she said.

"Snowar!" Goten cheered. He toddled around in a circle, throwing up his arms. "Snowar, snowar, snowar!"

"You know, a snowball fight?" Kuririn exchanged thumb-ups with Goten. "You form a snowball, toss it, hit somebody, try and take their fort? And, of course, you spend your time making strategies that don't work. It's great! I'm serious, _please take my coat, it's painful watching you run around in short sleeves."_

"I've already told you that I don't get—"

He took it off and handed it to her. "So, what do you say? Will you play?"

She stared at the coat as if she did not know quite what to do with it. "I don't know."

"Come on, please? It'll be fun! Tell her, Goten." The toddler dutifully echoed 'Fun!' and he added, "You don't have anything better to do, do you?"

"You be on my team," said Trunks.

Juuhachigou looked down. Trunks had grabbed a hold and was tugging the leg of her pants, face solemn. "My team," he said again.

She stared at him intently. It was the first time she had heard him speak.

"So?" Kuririn coaxed. "How about it?"

She tore her eyes away and looked at him again. His expression was hopeful. Beside him, Goten had abandoned his dance and was now regarding her, scratching at his ear. Their expressions were hilariously similar. "Fine," she said.

"Woo hoo!" Kuririn grabbed Goten's hand and the two began scrambling for the nearest fort. "This's gonna be so cool, ne, Goten?"

"_Saa!"_

"Ride," said Trunks.

She nodded. She bent to pick him up, then remembered the coat in her hands. She hesitated, then slowly put it on. 

Kuririn crouched behind the hastily constructed snow ridge. Goten stopped in front of it, placing his fists on his hips imperiously. "Stan' guard," he announced.

"No, no, buddy." Chuckling, Kuririn pulled him back. "Nobody needs to stand guard. Here, help me beef up the fort a bit, okay? We gotta make sure we beat these guys."

"Ride," Trunks repeated.

Juuhachigou picked him up and flew toward the fort. The instant she set him down he began scooping up snow and plastering it against the sides. "We'll win," he said.

She looked over at Kuririn. He was leaning over the side to fortify the base on the outside. As she watched, he suddenly lost his balance and fell, mashing part of the wall to the ground. Goten howled in dismay, trying to tug him up and in the process knocking down most the rest of the fort. "Yes," she said, "we will."

A stiff wind swept across the lake. Trunks, appearing satisfied with their fort, stepped back and began to build his arsenal. "Help," he ordered.

Juuhachigou squatted and picked up a handful of snow. After watching the toddler for a minute, she carefully began to roll it into a ball. 

Kuririn was scrambling around in circles to get more snow. "Goten, hurry, we gotta rebuild!" he cried.

The two-year-old stumbled along at his heels, throwing up handfuls of snow. "R'bill! R'bill!"

Trunks said something to her and she turned. "What?"

He said it again, placing a second snowball next to his first. She set her own down and began on another. "I don't understand you," she said.

He did not respond. After a moment the programming clicked; 'hurry', he had said, according to the tone/context analysis, or something akin to it ('run!' it also suggested, and 'your mom!' and 'release my sock/brother/appendage!') and it had not been, as far as she could tell, in the standard tongue. "Hurry?"

Trunks nodded. She had a sudden flash of comprehension. _Saiya-go_. Of course Vegeta's offspring would have some knowledge of the language, though she could hardly imagine Vegeta spending enough time with him for him to be able to pick it up. "How many more do we need?"

"A billion," he said matter-of-factly. "Or two. Two trillion billion."

"All right," she said, and looked up. 

Kuririn had just about gotten his and Goten's fort remade. Goten rushed about, piling clumsily-made snowballs to the right of the structure. As if sensing her gaze Kuririn looked up. "Hey, we're ready when you are," he called.

Juuhachigou looked at Trunks. "Are we ready?"

Trunks set his last snowball onto the pile. "One," he said, and continued, "two, three, four, five, a billion. Two billion. Two trillion billion. Ready."  
  


"We're ready," she said.

Goten immediately dove behind the wall and peeked over the top. Kuririn removed his scarf and tied it around his forehead. "I'm afraid the enemy is about to suffer horrific casualties, Goten," he said grimly. After a properly enthusiastic '_Hai!' he said, "I'm about to give the signal. You guys ready?"  
  
Trunks crouched down, snowball in hand. "Set," he reported. _

A kiwork shot to the sky; an instant later the air was filled with flying snow. Juuhachigou watched as Trunks half-stood to hurl a snowball. On the other side, Goten's shriek revealed that Trunks' aim was true. "Help!" Trunks growled.

Juuhachigou picked up a snowball and fingered it. Something tingled at her senses. She ducked just in time to avoid an attack. "Better be careful, Miss Juuhachigou," Kuririn called. "I almost nailed you!"

She drew her arm back and let hers fly. He yelped, diving away just in time. "She's fast!"

Goten began screaming war cries at the top of his lungs. Trunks failed to respond, though a feral grin sprang to his face. Juuhachigou found herself hastily remaking a snowball, dodging another attempt by Kuririn. Following Trunks' example, she raised from her crouch slightly, aimed, and fired. This time the snowball grazed the top of Kuririn's head, leaving white specks in the wild black locks. Beside him, Goten increased his pace, pelting the base of their fort. Juuhachigou shoved more snow up to reinforce it from the inside. "Watch for th''tack!" Trunks said tersely, attempting to rebuild their arsenal. 

Juuhachigou looked up in time to see Goten bearing down on them, fists raised in preparation. Without thinking she borrowed a large chunk from the side and flung it at him. It hit him squarely, knocking him out of the air. Half an instant later Trunks was over the wall, making a beeline for the other fort. Kuririn kicked at the ground, hard, throwing up a snow wall, and dove through it to tackle him to the ground. Trunks shrieked with laughter as Kuririn began tickling him. "Goten, hurry!" Kuririn yelled. 

Goten picked himself up and dashed back to safety. Not quite sure what to do, Juuhachigou launched three snowballs in quick succession in hopes of getting Kuririn off of Trunks. He responded with uncanny speed, moving both him and Trunks out of their paths. He then promptly proceeded to give Trunks a wedgie before scrambling back to his fort. Trunks waddled back to his own. "Kill 'um," he said darkly. 

Juuhachigou finished rebuilding the right side of their wall, then half-twisted to avoid a snowball aimed for her shoulder. "Why did I get myself into this?" she asked herself aloud, and surprised herself by not feeling the need to answer. 

At the other fort, Goten leapt to the top of the wall, wavering only slightly, and threw his fists in the air. "Masenko!" he bellowed, and launched a snowball the size of his head. "Masenk'spoo! Keeznan!"

Juuhachigou was taken aback when Trunks leapt to his feet. "Gallic gun!" he hollered back. "Burning attack! Wolf Fang Fist! _BIG BANG ATTACK!_"

On the last attack he aimed a ki blast at the ground. A deluge of snow slammed down on Kuririn and Goten. By the time they managed to claw their way to the top, Goten was sputtering and Kuririn was laughing so hard he could not stand. Juuhachigou took the opportunity to peg him in the face. "Get 'em!" Goten yelled. He put his wrists together. "Ka-a-a-ame-e-e-e-e ha-a-a-a-ame-e-e-e-e…"

Uttering a familiar curse that sounded completely foreign coming from such a young boy, Trunks dove to the ground and covered his head. Juuhachigou followed suit just before a mountain of snow exploded upwards, crashing back down with enough force to make the valley shudder. She fought her way back upwards, coughing, and fished around in the snow for her partner. After a moment her fingers brushed hair. She yanked and hauled him to the surface. Across the way, Goten was flat on his back, laughing uproariously. Kuririn, still unable to rise, was in no better shape. "Y-you should've seen your f-f-faces!" he gasped, giggling helplessly. "BOOM!"

"SPLAT!" 

Juuhachigou drew herself to her feet gracefully, intent on destroying them, and discovered that she actually had no desire to do so. Beside her, Trunks managed to crawl over to the enemy fort and dove onto Goten, wrestling him to the ground. Both were giggling. "My partner seems to have decided the war is over," Juuhachigou said tonelessly.

Wiping his eyes, Kuririn dragged himself to his knees. His sleeves had been pushed to his elbows; his forearms had grown as pink as his cheeks. "Are you all right, Miss Juuhachigou?" he asked, grinning.

Juuhachigou nodded. "So that was a snow war," she said.

"Yeah. Pretty fun, huh? Wow." He got to his feet, shaking his head vigorously. Bits of snow flew off into the ragged banks. He reached up to pull his scarf back down around his neck, saying, "They always get a little rough when you add these two, but then, what can you except from demi-Saiyajins?"

Now that her exhilaration had faded, she felt the familiar surge of anxiety that always seemed to plague her when she was with anyone else. She settled for a noncommittal pseudo-syllable. Not seeming to notice her sudden discomfort, Kuririn clapped his hands together, knocking snow to the ground. "So, where've you been staying these last couple of months?" he asked. At her scowl he blanched and added hurriedly, "I'm not trying to be intrusive, I just… I'm concerned, that's all. It's kind of cold, even down south."

"It's none of your business," she said reflexively. Then she added, "With my brother."

"Oh." For some reason this seemed to give him cause to frown slightly. "I see."

She did not let it slide. "What was that face for?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing, I'm sorry. I just… sorry. It's nothing."

Goten and Trunks had broken apart and were now running about in the snow, making up names for new attacks and throwing snow into the air. Juuhachigou examined Kuririn's profile, taking in everything from the scar at his temple to the bruise at his chin to the way he nibbled his lip, pensive. "Why do you stay at the Kame hut?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

"I dunno," he said. He looked up at her, and she realized it was the first time she had gotten a good look at his eyes. They were narrow, slightly unfocused to give room for thought, and were confused; nowhere did she find fear. "Nowhere else to go, I guess. I can't move in with Bulma –she's already adopted one drifter, and look where that got her. I could move in with Yamcha, but I'm afraid some of his habits would rub off on me. Not that they're all bad, necessarily, but just, the way he _talks_. He has some of the strangest expressions I've… have you ever heard of anyone actually crapping a brick?"

"Son's," she said.

"Yeah." Kuririn rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Out of all the options, that one's probably the most beneficial… but. Even though I would enjoy hanging out with the kids and helping with the housework and stuff, ultimately it's really unethical. Besides, I have a feeling that Chichi would eventually find cause to claw my head off. I need it, sometimes."

"She's a harpy," said Juuhachigou.

"She's a nice lady," he protested, frowning. "She's just stressed out all the time. Really, she's a good person. You just have to make sure you don't stay in the room with her for any extended period of time if you want to keep your genitals intact, that's all."

She startled herself by having to forestall a smile. "Here's a thought," she said. "Why not move into a place of your own?"

Discomfort flickered across his face. "I don't know. I'm not sure I… want to be alone. That is…" He sighed, folding his arms behind his head. "Both Master Roshi and I tend to be lonely people. He tries not to show it, but it's really obvious if you've known him for as long as I have. I figure, why not? I give him company, he gives me his, and his food, and his house, and both of us benefit. Especially me, I've just noticed."

Goten and Trunks raced by, laughing, and snow flew up into the air with renewed vigor. "Why are you lonely?" she asked.

He looked to her then, and there was an intensity in his eyes that she had not noticed before. "I dunno," he said. His voice was mild. "Why are any of us?"

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sudden shout of 'snow!' She looked up. The heavens had darkened during their conversation, creating a striking contrast with the white peaks of the mountains. As she watched, fat snowflakes began swirling down. She blinked as one dotted her eyelashes; the next, the tip of her nose. Goten and Trunks let out simultaneous whoops of joy and began chasing the flakes, trying to catch them on their tongue. Eyes shining, Kuririn danced after them, throwing out his arms and spinning around and around. "Snow," he said. His laugh was breathless and wild. "Snow, snow, snow!"

Goten and Trunks skipped around him, then grabbed each other's hands and began to whirl in circles. The snowfall thickened rapidly, obscuring the view of the mountains. Juuhachigou had a sudden vision of something she had seen in a store once, Before or After she could not remember, of a small dome on the shelf above a sales rack. The image was absurdly sharp in her memory; the rip at the bottom of the sales tag, the lurid colors of the tacky imperial-style dresses, the feel of the dome as she ran her fingers over the dusty top. The inside had been an apologetic mix of letters and dusted pine trees, in front of which had sat a elf wearing a green tunic and a pained smile. What had struck her, though, was the fact that, no matter how despondent the figures, or how many times she turned the dome over and set it on its base again, the snow kept coming, glittering and beautiful, untainted by the number of rotations of its world and the condition of its surroundings. Here, surrounded by trees and sheltered by the mountains, she felt like she was in a snow dome, sheltered from time, while children fell to the snow in frenzied attempts to create snow angels and pawprints; and under the heavens Kuririn still spun, dancing, scarf flying, face flushed, breathless with laughter; time again, and again.

**_Act II, scene ii, kame house_**

"Have you decided to kill him yet?"

She swung her leg idly, dangling her arm off of the cloud that was not supporting her. "No."

"Mm." Juunanagou dug her gently in the ribs with his toe and settled cross-legged in the air. Down below, the Kame hut sported a nightmarish mix of salmon and melon; Kuririn determinedly hunted around the grounds for the paintbrush that was in his back pocket. "I think I might."

"You've been saying that for months," she said. She did not sound bored—rather, preoccupied, and distant. "Either kill him or leave him be."

"I could kill you."

"Just don't miss."

"I can hear your gears working from here," said Juunanagou. "What for?"

"Everything." A thumb rubbed along a smooth nail absently. "Nothing."

"Anything you need to… you know…?"

She almost smiled. "No thanks."

"Good." Juunanagou yawned expansively, then reclined. "I hate hearing about other people's problems."

Juuhachigou rolled over to face the sky. Below, Kuririn's irritated yell was drowned out by a swell of rock-music. "Actually," she said. 

Juunanagou's eyes were closed. "Great."

"I _was thinking," she finished, unperturbed. "Where do you want to go?"_

"Besides home? Home. Maybe to the city to frighten a small dog. Important stuff."

"In your life, I mean."

"What life?"

"Juunana," she said, "be serious."

"Look, what do you want me to say? That I've got some incredible plan? That I'm looking forward to conforming, to _re_forming, to devoting myself to hours and hours of pointless community service?"

"I just want to know if you had anything in mind." 

"No, I don't."

"I see," she said.

The pause was brief, but poignant, and when Juunanagou turned to her his black brows were drawn together with annoyance. "Well? Are you going to just sit there until time winds to a halt or are you actually going to finish whatever the hell it is you're thinking?"

"There's nothing else to tell you. I was just curious."

"It doesn't become you."

"You're an ass," she said dutifully.

Juunanagou's pale eyes turned to her. "Have you started hating him enough to love him yet?"

She finally felt a surge of annoyance. "I thought you scrapped that argument." 

"Why would I do that?"

"Several months ago, in fact."

"But it's genius," he said. "Mostly because it's right. A brilliant theory is always helped out by the fact that it's right."

"It doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense. I've said it before, he's making you love him, and you hate him for it."

Her eyes closed briefly. "Go away."

"In any case," he said, ignoring her, "everything's going to come to a head pretty soon. To be honest, I think I've decided to leave it in your hands. The drama is always so much better if you can sit back and watch it, and I do enjoy a good drama."

"This isn't a drama," she said, "and I neither hate him nor love him."

"You hate him," he said flatly. "You hate everything. You're addicted. You're addicted, and so even if you hadn't have found him you would have latched onto somebody else to hate." And he smiled, and it held a surprising lack of cruelty. "I think you'll kill him. I really do. You can't stand having a weakness, and he would be your weakness. You'll kill him within the month."

"Thank you for your expert opinion," she said coldly, "but the last time I checked you had a similar addiction to hatred."

"That's true.  … But then, I'm not the one in love, now, am I?"

Below them, Kuririn located the brush in the exact place he had left it and whistled to himself as he continued his task, anger abruptly and completely forgotten. Juuhachigou suddenly felt tired. "So the point of all this is…?" 

"That I could try and forbid you from continuing something so ridiculous, but the fact is, it's just going to be too much fun watching how it all turns out to stop it." Juunanagou made a show of stretching, then folded his arms behind his head and focused off into the sky, jiggling his leg restlessly. "At any rate, you be careful with that wise-ass. Not only is he not as smart as you're making him out to be, he's human. Pure-blood, no half and half or two percent about it. Even if you do end up loving him, he'll die of old age before you age a month."

She looked up at him. His expression was bored, and slightly contemptuous, and she knew from experience that he was no longer even thinking about the current situation—rather, something that had happened to him, or had not happened.  "At least I'll be able to say that I lived in a way I could be proud of," she said quietly.

This time Juunanagou's smile was grim. "Whatever makes you happy, dear sister." 

He tapped into his power source and faced the sky.

"Juunana."

He turned.

"Don't follow me here again."

He didn't.


	5. Act III

**_Act III, scene i –in which spring has come into effect_**

She did not fear being different, nor did she revel in it. With the passage of time, however, she grew more _aware_, and not just of the things that mattered –her life, others' lives, life at large—but also the things that did not matter, and their numbers far surpassed those of the matters of greater importance. Coming to the conclusion to visit Kuririn, and for _real_, was a relatively minor decision, as was the decision to do it the traditional way, from the front step and with a double-knock on the screen door. She was not sure why she made them. Not only did she not want to see anyone other than Kuririn, she knew exactly where Kuririn was to begin with. Nevertheless, when she approached the Kame island, instead of swinging to the back she landed on the front porch. Then, just as protocol dictated, she bared her knuckles and knocked. 

At first there was no answer. The sounds of the television were loud in the living room, however, and she knocked again, two times more than the last. It made her feel oddly official. _She _was here, after all, and announcing her presence unflinchingly, like any other important guest. There was no reply, though her sensors detected a slight increase in the volume of the music. She knocked, and, even though it was cheating, kicked the side of the house gently. The entire hut shook. 

There was an irritated yell, followed by a sound suspiciously akin to furniture being hurled aside. The wooden door flew open, and Master Roshi was staring at her through the screen door. "Whatever you're selling, I don't—" he began, and stopped. His face became peculiarly blank. 

"Hello," she said.

"_Jinzouningen Juuhachigou," he responded neutrally. He hesitated, then looked down. His gaze grew shrewd. "Whatever it is _you're _selling, however…"_

She resisted the urge to put a ki blast through his midsection. Guests, after all, and especially important ones, did not do such things. "I have a question," she said. 

"I'll have an answer."

She acknowledged this sagacity with a nod, then asked, "Is Kuririn home?"

The turtle hermit blinked.  Behind him, upbeat exercise music pulsed from the t.v speakers, punctuated by the brisk, encouraging 'One! Two! Three! Four! And _again!_'s. "I beg your pardon?" he said at last.

"Is Kuririn home," she repeated patiently.

He stared at her a moment longer, looking as if he was not quite sure whether to be suspicious or incredulous, and finally jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Out back."

"Oh." A stiff breeze jostled the palm tree in front of the house, slapping its leaves against the muted pink panels. "That's good."

An extra-deep line appeared in the mass already assembled on Roshi's brow. "Would you level my house if I slammed the door in your face?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Because, you know, I'm about to slam it in your face."

"That's fine."

He slammed it in her face. She went around back to find Kuririn.

He was kneeling in a patch of dirt smeared out under the back window, trowel in hand. His shirt and clogs had been discarded and laid in a careless brown-black tangle. As she approached he looked up, a bright smile on his face. "Flowers," he said.

Juuhachigou nodded. The wind picked up and the flowers swayed, lethargic. "I didn't know you were a horticulturist."

"You kidding me? You're kidding me. Whew." Kuririn carefully smoothed the dirt out at the base of a brilliant purple flower. A tulip brushed his elbow, and he straightened, smiling. "Why, hello, there."

Juuhachigou crouched beside him, taking in the garden with an unpracticed eye. Her databanks had very little on flowers, but she did, for her part, recognize some lilies and daffodils, as well as some hyacinths and tulips competing for the upper left hand corner of the flowerbed. The names of the others eluded her. "They're healthy," she said. "You must be very good to grow all these different flowers in such a small bed."

"Nah." Kuririn gently ran his fingers along the top of the cluster of hyacinths, though the smile on his face was one of tender pride. "They pretty much grow themselves. I just keep some of the pushy ones in check and make sure they all get enough water."

"Pushy ones…?"

"Yep." Kuririn's hand lifted from the hyacinths and gestured toward a clump of pink blossoms. "See these? They're called grebera daises. And those, see those? Snap dragons. Both'll eat your garden up if you don't lay a trowel on their borders every once in a while."

Juuhachigou shifted. "What are those?"

He followed her gaze. "You like those, huh? Those are chrysanthemums. Believe it or not, they're the pushiest of all. I'm not sure if it's the location or the fact that they were there first or _what_, but, boy, do I have a problem keeping them back. They're pretty, though, aren't they?"

She nodded slightly. Something about the white petals attracted her. Untamed, unguarded, they would advance and overpower the enemy like so many proud empresses, their beauty matched only by their strength. She reached out with a slender finger to touch one of the blossoms.

"…And you wouldn't believe how resilient they are," Kuririn was saying. "I probably couldn't get rid of them if I tried. Hey, do you want a couple? I can make you a bouquet or—"

"No," she said. She rubbed her fingertip along its edge hesitantly, wondering at the silky texture. The stems beneath them yielded politely at the pressure to their charges, then deftly sprang back into position as she released them.

Kuririn's half-smile grew slightly quizzical. "Miss Juuhachigou?"

She stood. "It's," she began, and hesitated. Her tongue was used to uttering short, hard syllables, precise and unpoetic, and she found herself stumbling over what she needed said about a feeling that was larger than words could convey. "It's a battle. They're… proud." Her hands lifted to help shape her sentence. "They're working hard at living. They've fought. Picking them is unfair."

Kuririn's expression was neutral, though she sensed a growing confusion. She sighed, raking her fingers through her hair. "I don't know. They haven't overstepped their boundaries. Picking them seems… unprovoked, I…"

The consternation cleared from his forehead. "I get it. Okay. Guess we'll just have to admire them from afar, ne?"

She lowered her hands. "Thank you," she said simply.

Kuririn scanned his garden a final time, then slapped his knee and stood. "I suppose that's that," he decided. He looked out to sea for a moment, then blinked as if a sudden thought struck him, turning to Juuhachigou. "Hey, sorry, I know this is completely off-topic, but do you remember what the date was that I first met you?"

Taken by surprise, she raised an eyebrow at him. As expected, he flushed. "Yeah, I know, random. I'm sorry. I just… I was curious, that's all. If you don't remember, though, that's fine, I really don't need to—"

She recovered herself swiftly. "Shut up," she said. She accessed her data banks and scanned through the information, an absurd GIF of dust flying from a folder making her sneer at herself. To her surprise, the data offered two dates: both the 25th and the 26th of May. "It's unclear," she said. "It has two different times."

"The 25th or 26th of May?"

"Yes," she said.

He faced back forward. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Juuhachigou closed the file, slightly irritated. "If you already knew the answer, why did you ask me?"

"Sorry. I wasn't completely sure until I _did _ask. I just wondered if you remembered." A breeze rushed up from the sea and swept past them. Kuririn busily chased the bangs from his eyes, looking thoughtful. "May. Wow. It's been a bit, hasn't it?"

She shrugged. "It's not that important."

Kuririn hesitated, halfway through a ragged clump, and continued the journey through it, allowing it to fall back to his forehead. "Of course it is," he said, looking pained. "Why wouldn't it be?"

To her annoyance, she found she could not quite hold his gaze. "You tell me."

"Well, I really couldn't, seeing as I don't get it myself." His hand moved; he slowly rubbed his index finger over the hair by his ear, up and down, prompting the solemn rise of an increasingly massive tangle. "I mean… gosh, Miss Juuhachigou, I dunno. I mean, I know _I'm _happy about it. Meeting you has been the best thing that's ever happened to me. Well, that and learning how to fly." He smiled, then, and it was shy. "They both kind of feel the same."

Juuhachigou looked off toward the sea, face impassive. For some reason the sincerity exasperated her, as did the nervous, repetitive motions and the childlike exclamations. Neither 'gosh' nor such effeminate timidity suited any man, let alone one with a power of such ridiculous magnitude. She often found herself resenting the façade of innocence from a man who had seen, done, and felt too much to be truly innocent anymore, and then she found herself marveling at the strength of it, and its entirety, and how the practiced shift of his eyes managed to disguise pain as introversion. _Who does he think he's fooling?_

Kuririn finally shifted, stooping to shake his shirt out from under his clogs. He tossed it onto his shoulder, then proceeded to pull on his clogs with fingers stiff with dirt. "Well, anyway, I guess I'd better be getting inside. Hey, I have an idea, why don't you stay for dinner? We're having Chili Mac. Well, at least I _think it's Chili Mac. Whatever Master Roshi cooks always ends up looking something like a ruptured spleen."_

She nodded. "Kuririn," she said.

"Mm? Yeah?"

She studied him; from the ever-present hopeful look in his eyes to the diminutive stature to the way his toes wriggled, again and again, moon-pale and tiny. "If you call me Miss Juuhachigou again I'll break your neck."

Kuririn tilted his head slightly, concealing half of his face in the shadow of the Kame hut. When he straightened it slid away to reveal a genuine smile, like a cloud gliding from the path of sunlight. "Okay," he said quietly.


	6. Interlude

**_To Juuhachigou, with no regrets:_**

_i'd offer words of wisdom_

_if i thought that you would hear them_

_and i would man the lifeboat_

_if i thought that you would care_

_i could sit between the lines_

_and watch you toy with synonyms;_

_will it take you long to find the ones _

_that redefine your rage?_

_you could have the greatest plan_

_and write it up to get it down_

_and you could keep your secrets, then,_

_when no one wants to know_

_you can step half in your boat and stop_

_to flick off center shore, while God_

_rolls by on rollerblades,_

_… Heavenbound, _

_and laughing fit to kill._

_so if words could make you dance, i'd _

_make you dance, and dream_

_that dreamers leave their tracks in skies to follow,_

_like a cheesy melodrama_

_where the pain defines the stars –_

_if we pretend to be the _

_subjects we can wish upon ourselves_

_like idiots_

_and dream that nothing is the something_

_that we'll base our lives upon._

_(will you miss me when you no longer_

_have someone to depress…?)_

_                                fin 1:23 a.m June 31st, 768,  by S. Kuririn_


	7. Act IV

**_Act IV, scene i---in which summer has arrived_**

She had never particularly liked the heat, nor disliked it, but, rather, _tolerated it, and waited patiently to begin lamenting the fall of summer and secretly rejoicing in the coming of autumn. _

It occurred to her sometimes that she had become the one to always seek out his company, rather than the other way around. Strangely enough, it did not bother her as much as she thought it might have at one point. The huntress, after all, was the one to stalk the prey, and in stalking the prey had to be careful not to be preyed upon herself. And she was.

It was the middle of July and when she tracked him down, he was sitting at the top of a slide. "Believe it or not," he said, "this place is chock full of kids on the weekends." 

Juuhachigou landed at the foot of the structure. Other than them, the park was completely deserted. In the center sat a melancholy teeter-totter and a round contraption with handles that she could not positively identify. On the outskirts, the swings on a rusted set were swaying in the breeze. "This park is in the middle of nowhere," said Juuhachigou.

Kuririn shrugged. "Excuse me," he said politely. 

Juuhachigou moved aside. Grasping the handles, Kuririn launched himself down the slide. He landed hard in the pile of woodchips and rolled. "When I was younger," he said as he stood back up, "I always dreamed about having a playset of my own. At Orinji everything was so… strict, you know? As if it were a crime to have fun."

"It was a temple, idiot," she said without malice. 

"Well, I know that, but… I don't know. Personally, I think everyone would have been happier if they'd have grown a little hair. Seriously. Waking up every single morning and realizing that you're ugly and bald can't be good for the mood. And believe me, I would know. Wanna try this with me?"

She shook her head. Kuririn hopped onto the round structure and ran around a few times, holding onto the handle tightly, before swinging himself up into it. Juuhachigou watched him. "What are you doing here?"

Kuririn's face flashed by her again, and again, and again, pensive. "Like I said, I always wanted a playset when I was younger. Parks are just fun, I guess. People really don't appreciate these things the way they used to."

The structure gradually spun to a halt. Swaying only slightly, Kuririn eased himself to the edge and put a hand to his forehead, throwing a shadow over his features. "I'm convinced that if everyone had a playground in their backyards, there'd be a lot less crime in the world," he added. "Everybody would be too busy having a good time to worry about trivial things, like blowing each other up."

 "You're not working anymore," said Juuhachigou.

After a moment his hand lifted, pulling the shadow from his face. "Yeah, I quit my job a couple of weeks ago. I finished paying off the aircar, and nobody has another birthday for a couple of months. Besides, I hate being a waiter. I'm not cute or anything so the tips are lousy. Besides, I needed some time off to spend with my friends."

"There are more important things than friends," she said, disapproving.

The smile on his face, though gentle, was not condescending. "Nothing's more important than friends."

Juuhachigou found a reason to look away. Over by the edge of the playground, the swings creaked moodily. Kuririn followed her gaze. "Hey, do you want to swing?" he asked.

"Why do you keep asking me these questions?" she replied, annoyed. "You know I'm just going to say no."

Kuririn looked genuinely surprised. "But one day you might change your mind. If I don't keep giving you a chance, you won't have the opportunity to tell me."

"I didn't ask for your chances," she said. "And I didn't ask for you to care."

Kuririn looked down. "I'm afraid it's a bit too late," he said softly.

She did not know how to respond to that. 

"But really, you should try some of this equipment," said Kuririn a moment later. Though his smile was hesitant, the enthusiasm behind the expression was genuine. "It's a lot more fun than you might think. Besides, we have the park to ourselves."

"These activities are childish and pointless," she said automatically, but she was not really listening to herself. "What do you call that thing?"

"This thing? Oh, heck if I know. The round thingie? The circle-spinny-thingie? Your guess is as good as mine." He kicked out lightly and began to move in a lazy circle again, squeaking on the pole beneath him. "But seriously. You should. They say there aren't a whole lot of things more soothing than playing on a playground. Well, that, and swimming naked in warm salt water, in the dark."

She noticed the rise of color in his cheeks as he said 'naked', though she had a feeling it was reflexive. "You're full of it," she said, not unkindly.

"No, no, really! Philosophers have said to have done their best thinking when immersed in a salt-water bath. It's supposed to work on ninety percent of the people who try it, I think. Around there. Anyone who wants to have fun, I guess."

"And the remaining ten percent?" 

Kuririn looked toward her, and his eyes became very round. "Become nuns?"

She was startled to find herself fighting a smile. "Your eyes are brown."

"Gee-eez. Nobody ever believes me!" Kuririn covered a yawn with instinctive civility, kicking again with his toes, lightly. "Mm. And my eyes are always brown."

"They're very deep today."

"You think so? Wow. You know, seriously, I can't even remember the last time I actually told _any_ lie, leastwise a good one."

"Half of the playground just got buried," she deadpanned.

Kuririn burst out laughing. Juuhachigou watched him, feeling an odd sort of satisfaction. Not because the comment had evoked such a delighted response, necessarily, though that was a pleasant surprise, but that she was carrying on a decent conversation with someone. And not just anyone, she realized. Had it been Vegeta or Tenshinhan or even Chichi it would not have mattered much; Vegeta and Tenshinhan were men of few words, and carrying on anything with Chichi did not require any effort much beyond staying awake to listen. Kuririn, conversely, required her to constantly be on her toes. There was a wit underneath the diffidence, dry and often just south of acerbic, for all his face denied its existence, and she often found herself enjoying matching it with all she had to offer. Similarly, she was constantly surprised at the ease in which the questions were coming whenever she was with him, and more so, she admitted to herself, at the growing candidness of her responses. He baffled her in areas she had thought impossible to be baffled in, and he did it without warning or effort. 

"Hey, Juu," said Kuririn upon winding down, "are you sure you don't want to swing? Because I'm headed over there now, and I just thought you might like to come." When she didn't respond he shrugged and got up to trot over to the swing set. After a moment she grudgingly moved to follow him. He had sat down in the one furthest to the left and was now allowing his feet dangle. His toes were several inches from the ground. "Aw, come on, at least sit," he pleaded as she stopped beside him. "You don't even have to swing. But, I mean, I feel bad, sitting while you're standing."

Juuhachigou studied the chains of the swing, poking at them gingerly. "You have no reason to."

"I do," he said stubbornly. "You're a lady. If anything, I should be the one standing."

She snorted, though she felt an odd sort of warmth from deep inside. "I suppose if it'll make you stop pouting…"

Kuririn brightened as she sat. "Thanks," he said. 

The next few moments passed in a comfortable silence. When a cricket hiccupped a chirp to their right Juuhachigou tilted her head, turning up her perception. There was a keen energy in the air, she noticed: in the plants, racing through their veins, in the animals, in the grass and the trees and the mast and the sky. From all around came the sounds of summer, joyful and unabashed, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Juuhachigou felt herself relax. "If you had a genie," said Kuririn suddenly, "…and I mean a _real genie, like the ones that come in lamps… and he gave you three wishes, what would you wish for? And they can be anything."_

"Are you ever serious?" she asked. 

Kuririn gave her a puzzled grin, stretching out his legs in order to begin walking the swing around in circles. "What do you mean? I really am curious. Aw, come on, Juu, please?" he pleaded, seeing her roll her eyes. "I really, really want to know what you think. Seriously."

She hesitated. "Anything?" she probed cautiously.

"Absolutely anything at all. Even more wishes."

The chains squeaked. Juuhachigou nudged at the woodchips at her feet. "I'm not sure," she said at last. "Maybe… maybe a house, or… or I could wish Juurokugou back. I could wish that Juunanagou's brain be donated to you humans for scientific purposes. He's not using it."

Kuririn turned his head to look at her. His eyebrows were lowered; he was confused. "But… those are wishes for _other_ people. How about some wishes for yourself?"

"Those are my wishes." She lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. I don't really want anything."

"Wow. You're really unselfish." Kuririn looked forward again. "Me, I'd milk it. I have a ton of different things I want."

"Such as?"

"Oh, just stupid things, really. I want to be taller, smarter, stronger… that kind of stuff. A nose would be nice, too. I've always wanted one of those. Oh, yeah, and I would wish for all the guns of the world to be taken away and replaced with pillows. All the world's problems should be solved by one gigantic pillow fight." He grinned, continuing to turn around and around. The chains clinked as they wove together above him. "Can you imagine the feathers all over the battlefield? It'd be like a bad CLAMP manga."

"Is that all?"

"No," he said, and she watched as the happiness faded into a sort of fixed amiability, allowing his gaze to flit away without insult. "I'd wish for other things, too. Like… I don't know. A better personality. More courage. Maybe then I could stand up for myself –you know, not be such a coward all the time. At the very least, be able to talk to people without stuttering." The chains finally knotted above him. He lifted his feet and allowed himself to begin spinning. "I'm so horrible with that. They used to whack me for it at Orinji."

Juuhachigou was nonplussed. "You're not a coward. And you don't stutter, or at least not with me. Not anymore, anyway."

His face was flashing by too quickly for her to be able to decipher his expression. "Well," he said, "you're not just any person."

The statement caused an arrhythmic patter at her chest. "Stop it. There's no reason to start lying to me."

After a minute the swing began to slow. Kuririn blinked at her, pained. "I'm not lying to you," he said. His voice was low. "Why would you think I—"

"Because you're a religious smart-ass," she interrupted impatiently. "Since when did I become so special? Unless, of course, you think it's because I'm the one most deserving of your sparkling wit, in which case you might as well think again."

Kuririn had the look of someone who had just realized he had swallowed something barbed. "I didn't know you felt that way," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to be… rude, I… Oh, gosh, Juu, I didn't realize I…"

She watched him struggle, red-faced and ashamed, and was suddenly and inexplicably annoyed with herself. "Oh, shut up," she said gruffly. "I didn't say that just to have you start pouting. It's… I just don't see why you would act differently with me, that's all."

The swing came to an abrupt halt; Kuririn had dug a toe into the ground. He took a deep breath. "I'm not sure why," he said. His voice had become oddly decisive, as if to make up for his tentative words. "You… you're an incredible person, Juu. Sometimes I don't think you seem to realize that. When I'm with you I feel… I don't know. Invincible? Maybe not. But something like that. I feel, you know, tougher. Like I can take on the world and get licked and still come back up again, none the worse for wear."

She did not dare ask the reason why. "You shouldn't."

"What?"

"Feel that way."

"Why not?"

"Because there is no _reason_ to," she snapped, feeling her temper beginning to fray. "I've never done anything to encourage you. All we've ever done is talk, and barely that…"

"That's the thing. I _know _you don't look to encourage me. But I feel that way anyway; do you see how that's to your credit? You…" He paused, then grinned, though she got the feeling it was more to himself than to her. "You inspire."

"I could hate you," she said bluntly. "What would you do then?"

Oddly, Kuririn's smile did not fade. "Jump off a cliff, probably."

Juuhachigou looked down, tried to hold on to her irritation, and failed. Kuririn kicked off and flew upwards on the swing. At first it seemed it would take him over the bar. At the last moment, however, he tucked his legs and shot back down again, laughing breathlessly. 

Juuhachigou's lip curled. "There is no way you're a man."

Kuririn zoomed forward again placidly. "Nowhere does it say that a man can't swing."

"I thought it was one of those unwritten rules, like 'men can't say 'cute' and 'men can't wear sequins'."

"I don't know." Up; back. "I know plenty of men who look damn good in sequins."

Juuhachigou caught herself looking around to see if anyone was watching and spent the next few moments hating herself for it. "If one of your friends came by they would laugh at you," she said, aware that it sounded feeble.

"They laugh at me anyway. Besides, they're the ones missing out. Woo hoo!"

Juuhachigou shook her head at another unmanly giggle, then kicked her own legs slightly. The swing took her forward agreeably, and back again, and it was surprisingly painless. "Betcha I can swing higher than you," said Kuririn.

"Stop being ridiculous," she said. 

He nearly went over the bar again, but he kicked his legs firmly and brought himself back down. As he zoomed past her again she distinctly heard an incautious, 'sourpuss'. "Don't make me knock you off that swing," she warned. "Of course I can swing higher than you. There's just no reason for us even to make it a contest."

"But that's the fun."

"I'll swing because I want to." And just to prove to him that she could, she kicked her legs again. The resulting motion startled her so much she nearly fell off. She glanced up quickly to see if he had seen, but he was squinting off in another direction, apparently, for the moment, concentrating on something else. Reassured, she gingerly tried again. This time the motion was more controlled. There was an art to it, she realized: one had to lean back slightly to compensate for the straightening of the legs when the swing came forward, then tuck their legs right at the peak of the arc and lean forward as they were coming back. Smirking triumphantly, she repeated the process precisely, this time swinging up nearly as far as Kuririn. To her surprise, her stomach gave a pleasant thrill as she swung back down again. 

"Fun, isn't it?"

She looked up to find Kuririn smiling at her. She nodded. "How?" she asked.

He was silent for a long time. She opened her mouth to repeat the question, but he suddenly shrugged, looking thoughtful. "I don't know," he said at last. "I mean, we're humans, and most humans have the desire to do impossible things –like flying, you know?—and just because you and I _can fly doesn't necessarily mean the instinct would be erased. Or maybe there's just a good feeling in knowing you're not too old, or too jaded, to enjoy something that's intended for a child." He shrugged again. "Or, of course, I could just be sounding like a nerd."_

"Humans." Juuhachigou watched the ground rush by and back again. "I'm not human."

He looked surprised. "Of course you are, why wouldn't you…?"

"I'm _not_," she said tiredly. "There's nothing human about me save my form. What makes you think I want to be one of you anyway?"

"But you _are _human," said Kuririn earnestly. "You have a heart, and you _think_, and most importantly, you have a conscience."

She kicked out mechanically, zooming forward. She wanted to be angry at something, _anything, but she found, again, that doing such a ridiculous activity took away the will to do so. "You'd be surprised."_

He shook his head. "Why are you always in such a hurry to be down on yourself?" 

"You absolutely can't talk," she said.

Surprise; a sheepish expression came to his face. "Oh, yeah," he said. He tilted his head. "Guess we both have some stuff to learn, eh?"

"_You do." She slid off the swing as it came forward, landing easily, and began walking away. Kuririn followed, albeit clumsily. "All I need to know has already been programmed into me. The rest is inane.'_

"You can't mean that," he said. It was not a statement as much as it was a question. "I mean, there are so many other things in this world more important than fighting and… you know, killing Goku."

Juuhachigou stopped suddenly, almost causing him to run into her. Above them, a blossom-laden tree sent down several petals in a lazy sort of greeting. (_'Unknown', her sensors reported; the function of her intelligence that was responsible for the recognition of base anomalies happily reported the unusualness of blossoms in the summer.) "Like what?" she asked quietly._

Kuririn looked back up at her, blinking. "Like…"

"Like what." The leaves on a low-hanging branch were brushing against the back of her head. She moved, not taking her eyes from his. Her voice was surprisingly gentle. "I want to know what else is worth knowing."

His teeth found his lower lip. "Well," he said, "there's always the really stupid, useless things. Eight furlongs equal one statute mile according to linear measure. The short-term memory capacity for the average non-android is between five and nine items, I think.... The cashew is actually a part of a fruit called the 'apple cashew' and only grows in tropical regions." 

Without knowing why, Juuhachigou found herself drifting closer. Though he at first seemed not to notice, she saw the rise of color from his neck to his ears. "And?" she prompted.

"The brain freeze you get by eating ice-cream too fast happens because your body thinks you're hypothermic and… um. The blood vessels constrict..."

She crossed her arms, hiding her smile behind an increasingly cool façade. Kuririn flushed even more deeply, though he was still, amazingly, managing to hold her gaze. "_And_?" she said again.

"And…" This time he hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer, as if he hoped she would not hear. "And then there's the important stuff, like… like knowing when not to quit and when not to fight. Or knowing how to go on living when you're dying. Knowing when… and knowing where… to look for beauty."

The wind swept through the branches of the tree, sending down a deluge of white-tipped petals. Juuhachigou studied his eyes through the curtain, disappointed, but not surprised, to see that they had finally dropped to the ground. Unsure of why she was suddenly concerned for his comfort, she sought to find a question suitable to boost his confidence. "What kind of tree is this?" she asked.

As she expected, he instantly brightened. "Oh, this? This is a Catalpa tree. Isn't it pretty? It's one of the only trees on Chikyuu that blooms in the summer. Well, I guess Cottonwood does, too… and Mock Orange, but that's a bush." 

He drew in a quick breath then, looking interested, but his face fell almost immediately. "What?" she said.

He hedged for a bit, but it was half-hearted, as though the idea was too good to conceal behind reluctance. "Would you mind if I put a flower in your hair?" he asked.

Despite herself, she was taken aback. "My hair? What for?"

"I dunno, it would just…" He took a deep breath and finished in a rush, "look real pretty."

She tapped her foot once, twice. Now that he mentioned it she vaguely remembered seeing a flower in a woman's hair once before. The woman had been dead, actually –ki blast through the stomach, was it?— but she could recall thinking how pretty it had looked on her; how maybe the stem tucked behind the dainty cream-colored barrette had been gently plucked from the ground—by a lover, perhaps?—with the sole intent to please her. She could remember her intense hatred –not of the woman, as sense would dictate—but of the flower; symbols had always irritated her. 

Kuririn obviously mistook her silence for refusal. "Well, uh, never mind, I guess," he said. He chuckled nervously. "I… I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was out of line. I'm sorry."

She snapped back to attention. "I didn't say no."

His expression did not change, though a rapid blink conveyed his surprise. "I didn't say no," she repeated. She crossed her arms. "You should stop making assumptions. I don't understand the purpose, but I haven't refused."

"You mean… you'll let me?"

She lifted a shoulder. After a moment the consternation slowly vanished into barely-concealed glee. "All right! This won't take a second."

In a move that barely disturbed the grass beneath them, Kuririn raised hi ki and eased up to the nearest branch. After a moment's search he murmured, "Here's a good one," and allowed himself to lower enough so that they were face to face. Juuhachigou held her breath as his gentle fingers smoothed away the hair by her ear. His face was a mask of tight concentration, as if he was an artist adding onto a painting already so superb that he was to the point of indulging himself. She could feel his breath on her cheek and the subtle waves of his energy nudging against hers, tickling her skin and tingling at the roots of her hair. There was a rush of heat in her cheeks; it took her several moments to realize that she was blushing. 

The wind stole the hair from her other ear and brushed it across her nose. Kuririn finished positioning the flower and lowered his gaze. To her surprise the spark in them had intensified, joined by something at once both fervent and vulnerable. He hesitantly reached up and nudged the errant strand away, tucking it back where it belonged. "There," he said quietly. "I'm finished."

Her sensors were picking up irregularities. Seeing the warning lights beginning to flicker at the corner of her vision, Juuhachigou closed her eyes briefly. _Erratic heartbeat, her sensors were telling her smugly: _increased body temperature, dry mouth, anxiety._ For all they were foreign, all of the changes were slight. In a way Juuhachigou feared her own reaction more than the situation itself –though certainly on edge, she was not bothered nearly as much as she should have been._

She opened her eyes again. Kuririn was studying her—too polite, she realized, to proceed without her permission. With this she felt irritation (why did he have to be so timid?) and then she surprised herself by feeling a sharp pang of longing. Her sensors instantly shrieked for her attention. Caught off guard and hopelessly confused, she found herself leaning in. Kuririn's eyes widened marginally, and a moment later he moved in to meet her, hope springing across his face. 

The expression was like a splash of cold water. Jerked her back to her senses, Juuhachigou shook her head and took a step back. Kuririn stopped immediately, the hopeful look replaced by a slow, sad smile. Juuhachigou took several deep breaths. After a minute her systems slowly cooled down, allowing the fear to fade away. She felt herself flush again, first in embarrassment, then in something that was completely unfamiliar to her: shame. "Kuririn… I..."

Kuririn shook his head. He lowered himself to the ground and held out his hand. "Come on," he said. "There's a lot of things I still want to show you. Just up ahead is a grove I know you're going to love. Will you come with me?"

Juuhachigou stared at the proffered hand. Something was burning behind her lids. She blinked rapidly. 

Kuririn looked up at her. His eyes were clear; nowhere in them was hurt or resentment. "Please?" he said softly. He tilted his head. "I promise it won't hurt."

A bird flitted overhead, dislodging another cloud of white petals. Juuhachigou shifted, slowly extending her hand. He took it. "Kuririn," she whispered again. 

He smiled at her. Taken aback, she closed her mouth and, for the first time in as long as she could remember, allowed herself to be led. Together they wove through the bordering trees, through shadow and light and back again, in drafts heavy with petals and sunshine. Juuhachigou paused as they reached the edge of the grove, wondering what to make of her confusion. Before she had not realized that a feeling could manage to both speed up and hinder the flow of time, turning lifetimes into instances and summers into eternities. She had not ceased to be the huntress, but until now she had not thought it possible to be at once ensnared and set free. That, she supposed, was enough to end the season of the hunt: she was finding what she was searching for.

Kuririn gently tugged her hand. This time, she did not hesitate.

_thus a play in four acts serves well for a prelude_

_ (exeunt) _


End file.
